Chronicles of Commonality

Here is to the stories untold.
The ballads unsung.
The chronicles of commonality..
Here is to the girl I rode with on the bus,
She looked exquisite except that her eyes were bloodshot.
If only I knew what kept her awake last night..
I could pray it away tonight.
And hail the old man I saw.
Working hard at a hotel somewhere,
amidst the clatter of shinny new china,
basking in the aromas of food he can't taste,
while his own stomach growls silently..
If only I could erase his woes,
or at least let him feast tonight.
I wouldn't forget that child some where,
hanging on the threshold of a toy store,
watching as an outsider,
as many kids his own age inside,
make crucial painstaking decisions..
a red firetruck or a tooting train,
while he fights the demons of his own.
Mouths to feed, no father no mother,
If only I could hug him tonight.
Here is to the stories untold,
beneath the smiling lips, tragedies unfold,
Here is to songs unheard,
that hassles of our lives deferred,
to the next day, and the day after that..
until it was lost..
If only I could be a superhero tonight.
I'd be a storyteller,
of the same commonality.
if only..